


Where Bravery Dwells

by Silver Lioness (Rumpels_Darker_Dearie)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adultery, Beard Appreciation, F/M, Hair Kink, Kissing, Lust, Medieval Slang, Older Man/Younger Woman, Room of Requirement Shenanigans, consenting sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-04-07 04:47:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14073210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rumpels_Darker_Dearie/pseuds/Silver%20Lioness
Summary: Hermione needs comfort when she finds Ron has kissed Lavender Brown, her dorm mate and ditzy friend. She rushes to the ROR – Otherwise known as Room of Requirement or the Come and Go Room. What Hermione did not expect was that the room can come from a different time era and go to another one. She meets Godric Gryffindor and, well, the connotations brings on an entirely new meaning to the term Come and Go! (I fancast him as Nick Brimble in the early 90’s)





	Where Bravery Dwells

**Author's Note:**

> Smut, Sex, Historical Language, older man/younger woman

 

 

[ ](https://rarepair-shorts.livejournal.com/621245.html#)

    

 

 

**Where Bravery Dwells**  

 

 

How could he? Hermione’s eyes stung from the free fall of tears from her eyes. How? She had never known heartbreak until she watched her boyhood crush kiss her ditzy friend and dorm-mate. Lavender _knew_ how Hermione felt for Ron, yet that did not stop her! Before she knew it, she reached the stupid tapestry of the loony wizard trying to teach trolls ballet! She huffed and paced three times back and forth. Not even registering her vague mutterings of: _Not here, not now. Not Here, not now. Not Here, Not Now!_

The area glowed. A large oak door with iron hinges and a lion’s head holding a round knocker formed. She giggled a little as the lion’s eyes sparkled ruby red. She knocked three times as was the rule in magical worlds entry ways. 

A comforting glow of a crackling fire welcomed her in. Hermione gazed around in awe, confounded by the luxury. Bright tapestries hung floor to ceiling depicting sexual scenes between humans, vampires and Veelas. Hermione looked down, the flagstone floor was covered in furs of different animals. Grand chairs were also covered in an eclectic show of fabrics to keep the seats comfortable.

“Where did you come from?” boomed a voice behind her, she gasped and jumped in fright. “Hello, maiden, which Vichy do you hail from?”

“V-Vichy?” Hermione stuttered.

“Where were you born?”

“U-Um Gloucestershire.”

“You’re a fair way from that verdant county,” he growled. Hermione gulped as she stared into the bluest eyes set in the swarthiest face she’d ever seen. The man sported a black silky beard. His flowing locks put her in mind of what Lucius Malfoy would look like if he was raven rather than blond. “Did you Apparate here?”

“No,” she said shyly. “I was only trying to find a place to hide away from everyone.”

“Why does such a sweet beauty like thee wish to hide?”

“I’m not a sweet beauty – I wish to hide from peers who wish to mock me. A wizard I liked seems to prefer another witch who _is_ considered a beauty.”

“Who is this wizard with rotten taste?”

“No one, sir. I’m not going to reveal any more unless you tell me _who_ I’m conversing with?”

The man stood up. He towered above her. Broad shouldered, bulging biceps, his ham strings and thighs looked like they could break armour if he so much as stretched. He was Adonis. Hermione drooled.

“Of course,” he bowed, “I’m Godric Gryffindor. I must know who has blessed me with a beautiful sight this cold night?”

“I’m Hermione Granger,” she said.

“Hermione Granger from Gloucestershire,” he responded and winked at her making her face flush and her thighs rub together. “You’re clearly a witch. How did you find my private chambers?”

“I don’t know if you’d believe me if I told you the truth.”

“I’m a Wizard, Miss Granger, I _bend_ truth.”

“Are we still in Hogwarts?” Hermione asked.

“We are,” he said.

“I’m a pupil at Hogwarts – the reason you don’t know me, is well…” the witch gazed down at her feet that were trying to hide behind the other. Her fingers fiddled together entwining themselves in her top. “I’m from 1,000 YEARS in the future. It’s true I’m hiding from a wizard I liked who likes another. The Room of Requirement or the…”

“Come and Go Room…it can move through time?”

“It gives the person who paces in front of the secret doorway whatever it feels they require.”

The bulky founder before her tilted his head to the side, his thumbs tucked in his scabbard belt, his fingers lay flat against his thighs which were drumming an absent-minded beat whilst he rocked on his heels.

“Tell me, why would the room think you require _me_?”

Hermione lowered her eyes further: “I don’t know, I didn’t want to be _there_.”

“Why do you think It decided _I_ was what you required?”

Hermione mumbled turning bright red: “I’m Gryffindor.”

“Really?”

“I never feel brave or courageous. I’m just books and cleverness…”

She stopped talking when she felt his presence behind her once again, their bodies could feel the other’s heat. Hermione felt a blistering passion for the man behind her.

“Is there something wrong with a maiden being clever of mind as well as strong of heart in your time?”

“In _theory_ no, in _practise_ , subtle hints are against.”

“In what manner?” his breath was on her neck. Polyester was too thin to protect her against him. Even muggle he’d be able to rip her clothes effortlessly at the seams. “Elucidate.”

She shuddered at the feel of his silky hair falling around her shoulders: “W-well, if I hit someone, and I have, I receive a back-handed compliment: _Wow, that was a good punch –_ _ **for a girl**_! Or – _you fight well,_ _ **for a girl**_! The best one yet: _Hermione,_ _ **you’re a girl**_ _, aren’t you?_ Where I’m from you can either be brainy or pretty – you cannot be both.”

“Do the men of my house turn into such _mandrake mymmerkins_ that you’re undesirable?”

“Such what?”

“Little pears,” Godric explained. “Little brains to match their tiny organs?”

“Er,” she gulped. “I d-don’t know anything about _their size.”_

“They must if they feel unmanned because _you_ pay attention to your tutors.”

“I…I…I…” she stuttered; turning around to face him. He bent his head. Their mouths were inches apart, “um…” she whispered. 

Hermione did not manage to finish her stuttering sentence before Godric crashed his lips on hers. She opened her mouth wider to allow his tongue immediate entrance. Their mouths moved harmoniously with the other. His hands covered the lines of her throat. Her own were entwined in his hair, fisting clumps at his scalp, the scrape of her nails caused him to hiss in return. Lips stuck to the other as his hands roved down her back. Desperately, he clutched her bottom and thrust her to his growing _standard_. 

They stopped only to breathe: “You’ve the prettiest pair of eyes I’ve seen.”

“They’re boring.”

“They’re flecked with gold, green, and glints of blue. Your eyes will take a _real man_ hours to decode. They convey wisdom, kindness, ruthlessness, and courageousness. Here we think of eyes as the most attractive quality a human possesses.”

“You’ve a handsome set of eyes, sir.”

They were lost in lusts haze. Hermione thought him handsome. He thought her comely.

“Hermione, you’ve bestowed upon me a growing intensity of loin, please heal me of my pain?”

Hermione swooned. She knew she needed a _man_ of poetry and persuasion rather than a teenage _boy_ of clumsy compliments. 

“I’m compassionate and shall relieve your pain,” she whimpered.

“You’re not dainty, are you?”

Hermione arched an eyebrow. It was then he whipped his wand out and divested her of clothes: “I need those later!”

Gryffindor smiled hungrily as the glow of the fire reflected on her smooth complexion. An ugly scar spread from breast to hip bone. The witch fought and survived in valiant battle.

“If you doubt yourself as a daughter of my house, then stand in front of the mirror and see that scar. Admire your strength. Think of that as a badge of honour, that you _are_ Gryffindor,” he lifted her hand up to his lips as he stalked around her.

“Thank you, Godric,” her eyes followed his steps, he leaned in and pecked her forehead. “Do you possess marks from battle?”

“I suppose it’s fair that I take Adam’s robes as you’ve become Eve.”

She was incapable of looking away from his body as it was instantly revealed to her. He smiled mischievously at her. Without clothes, his straight hair and beard reached his waist, he was the picture of virility.

“I’ll never think of Gryffindor’s sword in the same manner again,” she appreciatively sighed.

“My sword?”

Hermione’s blush spread deliciously over her body. “Are you er…I mean…is there…?”

“A wife?”

“Yes.”

“There is. Don’t men seek women outside the marriage bed in the future?”

“Um...yes.”

“No matter,” he smirked, “I will make it so that when you return you shall be unrecognisable.”

“Godric, take me.”

Godric laughed, the vibrations went through her body and jolted straight to her core. “Hermione, swords were made to pierce,” he growled.

“Please, Godric,” she panted, slowly spreading her legs exposing all of herself for the man she’d always admired.

With that Godric noticed how engorged her sweet little nub had become, the firelight highlighted her glistening mons. The dilation of his pupils left a small ring of blue that had become her world since she opened the door. 

“I shall spear you with one condition, you find a _man_ with a brain – one who appreciates beauty as a deep and wonderful thing, not a whelp, who thinks only of his childish joy .”

“I promise.”

He caged her legs between his taut thighs, his hands were flat on the mattress, her head right in the centre. His fingers caught in her hair. Their eyes steadily gazing upon one another in wonder. 

Slowly Hermione curled her arm around his head, she pulled him down whilst raising herself on her elbow, their lips met in searing kiss. Her other hand curled around his neck. They collapsed on the bed, still searching each other’s mouths with their tongues. His legs had spread away from hers, freeing her to hitch and curl around his broad hips.

“I’m about to enter you now,” he growled, she was high on kisses. Gently, he took his huge fingers to her sheathe and closed his eyes purring with approval at his effect on her. “Am I the cause of this deluge of sweet honey?”

“Kisses, and your hands – I love long fingered men.”

“Sweet love,” he whispered. Godric lowered his head and used his nose to spread her labial folds apart. Moaning as he lapped at her. Hermione twisted into shapes she thought were physical impossibilities. “What ambrosia is this?” he murmured. “I could sup all day upon Aphrodites altar. Time for Eros to complete his spell.”

He took her hands and raised them above her head silently ordering her to remain in position. He lifted her legs up from under her knees – spreading them as far as he could. Without warning he rammed his _standard_ with such ferocity that she didn’t think she’d be able to walk again. “You have the tightest sheathe I’ve been encased in, sweet Hermione!”

She rolled her head to the side: “Harder, faster, don’t be gentle!”

Godric obeyed. Joy engulfed his quivering body as he took her buttocks and pushed her down on him. She heaved great gasps as he fully immersed inside her. Hermione growled hungrily: “GODRIC!” she screamed. “MOVE, THERE, KISS MY TEATS!”

He easily lifted her body up so her perky little nubbins were lined up with his mouth. He palmed a tender breast before engulfing it in his mouth. Sucking, licking, tasting her. She used the advantage and placed her hands on his shoulders. Hermione grunted as she pushed herself down on him. They soon found a steady rhythm.

“Witch, you’re going to have to go faster if we’re to truly satiate ourselves.”

“You’re so mighty a man and I’m a small vessel.”

“Nonsense, witch.”

Hermione threw her head back. His encouragement had her vigorously bouncing on his balls, grinding her hips against his. When he’d finished tasting her teats he threw her on her back, raised one leg over his shoulder. Godric sat on his knees, aligning his pulsing organ to her vagina. Without warning he rammed into her, grinding his hips against hers. 

He rubbed a hand down the leg over his shoulder, suckling her ankle bone, then licked her foot causing her to groan in pleasure. He squeezed at the flesh of her thighs. Together their bodies were writhing and twisting to the sway of the flame in the hearth.

Sweat soaked their skin. Hermione could barely think let alone breathe, when she felt her thighs clench in anticipation. He gazed down upon her, bouncing merrily on his standard, her wonderful teats quivering. He lowered the leg down and to his waist, angling her for a deeper orgasm.

“See witch what you can do? I’m a warrior wizard, but you make me tremble in ecstasies. You gaze at me with exquisite eyes. You can aim for any man,” he pushed with all his might between every word, taking him to new and delicious realms of pleasure. Her keening moans were all that encouraged him to thrust deeper, harder and faster. He rode her across the mattress with hungry passion. 

“Gooooooddddddriiiiic!” she moaned. “Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes! What have I done to…Please! Ggggoinggg to…to…to…to…there, oh yes, there, Godric,” her body jerked violently twisting around his tumicid organ. She was hungry for his seed! He yelled in appreciation. She clamped around his swollen organ urging it to feed her his semen. His head bowed over her shoulder, the grunts in her ear spurred her. Her muscles weakened, her eyes flashed stars with every tortured blink. Their slick bodies slapped against each other.

Suddenly her walls gripped him. Mercilessly milking him for all he had. Her body shook as she felt him explode inside her: “HERMIONE!” Fell like a tempest of emotions from his beautiful lips.

She laid there almost comatose, not quite finished, she lifted his hand from her bruised sides bringing them to her turgid clit. He rubbed with all his might. She started twisting in the sheets, moaning with anticipated pleasure. His lips kissed a scorching trail down from her breast bone to her mons, stopping to nip at the flesh to show she had been thoroughly debauched. He did not wait long. She was thrashing wildly about the bed; he took the engorged pearl into his mouth and sucked, his appreciative humming noises spread tingles all over her body.

He pushed three fingers into her sodden, come covered seam, furiously urging her to come for the final time.

“Goooodriiiic.” His name had risen in several octaves by the end. She jerked wildly, panting his name like a Mantra. Her walls tightened around his fingers, he pushed them further in. She enthusiastically rode his fingers. “There…you’re…there, there, there! Again, again, again – oh, oh, oh, oh! OH GODRIC! GODRIC! MY GODRIC! OOOOOOOOOOOOO GODRIC I’M…”  Her eye flew open! Her legs jolted violently as she came! 

The door lightened, signifying Hermione to go. She took the red and gold silken sheets then Accio’d her wand. Using some dressmaking spells, she made a dress that was modern for her time. She looked magnificent adorned in his house colours.

“Goodbye, Hermione. Don’t settle for whelps when you can enjoy the mind and wit of an older but wiser wizard.”

“I will Godric,” she smiled shyly.

The door opened, she walked back to her time. Godric wished he could follow her, but he must stay here.

Was there a way to guarantee immortality? 

He’d make himself so if it meant seeing Hermione again.

  

 


End file.
